


love's the same old sad sensation

by Laurentia



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-02 17:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10223621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurentia/pseuds/Laurentia
Summary: London was her home and in the January of 1920 Rosamund sat in Speaker's Corner, swaddled in her furs against the cold wind and closed her eyes, listening to the soothing sounds of motor cars and chatter.





	

The return to London was something of a balm for Rosamund after being confined to her childhood home. Here she at least had some anonymity and wasn't the subject of pity; her family were one thing but having the likes of O'Brien and Mrs Hughes being soft with her because of her _disappointment_ was quite the last straw and she'd been going quite mad. In London very few people cared who she was and she could happily walk around the park in the cold, winter morning without being harassed by anyone asking how she was feeling and would she like anything.

She had exchanged loneliness for liberty thirty years ago and she was used to them both. Downton simply didn't suit her anymore and when she allowed herself to think about it, Lord Hepworth wouldn't have suited her. Her mama had told her – the smug righteousness brimming under her sympathy – that half of his reason may have been his lover but the other half was the reestablishment of his families estate and no matter how many times Rosamund had reminded her mother that she had been fully aware of his landed ambitions it didn't prevent Violet from speculating with Robert that he might have poisoned her with Shore's help to inherit the lot. As much as she detested being played for a fool Rosamund could hardly imagine him in the role of Crippen or killing her in the bath on their honeymoon, but she allowed her mother her theatrics as long as they were confined to Yorkshire.

London was her home and in the January of 1920 she sat in Speaker's Corner, swaddled in her furs against the cold wind and closed her eyes, listening to the soothing sounds of motor cars and chatter, two things that were hardly in abundance in Downton. Her cheeks were pink from the wind but she found she didn't care too terribly. For a woman of her age she had always thought she was holding together rather well – indeed Cora's first words to her when they'd had a moment alone following the _incident_ were to tell her Shore didn't hold a candle to her and despite her low spirits it had amused her how well her sister-in-law knew her. Still, she had taken a blow to her confidence that Rosamund suspected would take her some time to recover from and in that time she was determined not to care about such things too much. It would only depress her further.

"I see you've taken to sleeping in parks rather than patrolling them Lady Rosamund."

Her eyes snapped open and she found herself looking up at Sir Richard Carlisle. He was no longer to be a member of the family – not that she or mama had ever really imagined Mary would actually let him take her down the aisle – and according to Cora his behaviour had bothered almost all of the Crawleys before the end.

Rosamund wasn't especially surprised. He had been a rather charming but enigmatic figure as long as she had been acquainted with him, brimming with the right words to appear suitably humble before the Earl of Grantham but riddled with so much cocksureness that he left Robert and the family in no doubt that he had never considered them superior. All in all he was a dangerous figure, one that challenged the order of hereditary titles and money being passed along rather than made and Rosamund knew that it was the family stance that Sir Richard was nothing more than a blight to be forgotten now that Mary and Matthew were to be married.

On the other hand he had left Downton the morning before she'd discovered the treachery around her and so was more or less the only person this Christmas season not to look at her with pity or disdain and she found that enormously appealing and her lips twisted with amusement.

"I think my watch over your behaviour is long since done Sir Richard. Won't you sit down?"

He inclined his head politely and sat by her side, gripping the onyx end of his walking stick. He sat half towards her and half-leaning on the stick still, turning his head to gaze out across the park as though he was the lord of this land surveying it; but it was quite different to the way her brother looked, Rosamund realised. Whereas Robert sat complacently, sure that he would never be ousted from his place and taking in the land he credited himself and his fathers for supplying and maintaining in precisely the same image, Sir Richard was speculative, glancing here and there as though imagining the things that might be if he had his way. He sat silently for a moment until Rosamund could contain herself no longer and, following his lead by not meeting his gaze and instead looking out across the frost-bitten grass she asked:

"Has somebody informed you of the engagement?"

"Yes," was his curt reply, and Rosamund nodded idly, glad she wouldn't have to break the news herself. "I suppose they've rather stolen your thunder?"

"Mine?"

"By announcing their engagement first. You'll forgive me Lady Rosamund," he turned his head towards her, a faint smile on his lips that held no malice. "But I suspect the marriage of the Earl's daughter to the heir presumptive will warrant more attention than that of his sister to a penniless Lord."

Rosamund breathed in sharply and returned his gesture of not meeting her eye.

"We won't be getting married."

"Ah." He said no more and hardly needed to. Sir Richard might not know the reasons behind the end of her courtship with Lord Hepworth but he knew better than anyone that the details surrounding the end of a relationship were best left to lie undisturbed. She didn't especially _want_ to know precisely what Mary had done or not done that had led to the end of the engagement and she doubted he wanted to listen to her tale either: all she wanted was to forget and move on as quickly as possible.

"I suppose we have that in common now," she quipped lightly.

"I suppose we do."

"Of course mine was never announced formally so I can carry on pretending that people simply got the wrong impression and I didn't make an enormous fool of myself."

"No one is as much as fool as I Lady Rosamund, you're quite safe from ridicule I'm sure."

"Not in every corner I suspect."

"I won't hear it in my presence."

It was more comforting than anything Robert or Cora had managed and she smiled at him in gratitude, oddly moved by the offer of defence, even if it was unlikely that Sir Richard would be found in the gossip circles. It was an oddly elongated moment and Rosamund, much to her own annoyance, felt the need to break the silence.

"Goodness it is getting cold."

"May I take you for tea? We're close to the Ritz I believe and sometimes, when the wind is just right, they do let men like me in."

She chuckled and nodded, allowing him to give her his hand to help her to her feet. She was rather taken aback by how much her joints seemed to have stiffened up in the small time she had been sat down and, begrudgingly, put it down to her age as much as the cold. After a few strides she began to warm up and he let go of her hand rather awkwardly, instead offering his arm which she took with as much grace as she could muster. Her mama would disapprove heartily of her befriending Sir Richard but she couldn't bring herself to care. Her mama wasn't here after all – that was half the reason she lived in London!

They chatted amiably about the weather and the change in seasons as they progressed down Park Lane towards the turn onto Piccadilly. It was rather strange, Rosamund mused, that she had so seldom seen Sir Richard in town during the last few years; they lived so close and yet their paths had only really crossed three hundred miles away when the rest of the family were involved. He wasn't an abominable man, as much as mama would have it so, rather a charming one in fact and Rosamund found her spirits considerably higher by the time they reached the Ritz.

At the maître d'hôtel's station Richard took a natural lead and she allowed him, glancing around the restaurant and very aware that a few eyes were turning in their direction.

"We appear to be a subject of interest."

"Ignore them. Some people have nothing better to do than investigate other people's business."

She raised her eyebrow at him sharply, sensing the taunt in his words but the vague twinkle in his eye quenched any anger in her. She could hardly claim it was a lie really, he must know full well that she had taken it upon herself to nose into his and poor, dear Lavinia's history when they had first appeared at Downton but he didn't seem to hold a grudge and instead she smirked at him.

"This from the mouth of a professional muckraker?"

He offered her his arm again as they were escorted to their table and, following his lead, she didn't pay the slightest attention to any of the onlookers. It was rather gratifying to know that she hadn't been entirely forgotten by society at least! Rosamund allowed herself to be led through the restaurant with a charming smile for anyone she caught the eye of. She didn't know any of these people but it didn't hurt to be polite or pleasant; over the years she had learnt that waiters – like footmen and butlers – were amongst the touchiest men on the planet and so she was well trained in the art of indulging them into thinking that she _truly_ appreciated their efforts.

"Thank you dear," she smiled at the maître d'hôtel and Richard watched her bemused until they were left alone and he chuckled.

"Do you charm every man you meet Lady Rosamund, or is it just waiters?"

Taken aback for a moment it took Rosamund longer than usual to sense an amused tone but when she did she returned it merrily.

"I'd have to get your opinion on that wouldn't I?"

* * *

"What do you plan to do about Haxby? Surely you won't live there?"

Three days later Rosamund met him again, intentionally this time although neither of them had strictly speaking _invited_ the other to dinner. Instead, after they'd conversed rather enjoyably and stood to leave Richard had led them casually, still talking as they went, back towards the maître d'hôtel's station and booked a table for three days hence at eight. Rosamund had nodded her acceptance of the date before she'd fully realised what she was doing and Sir Richard had dropped her home in his taxi, promising to pick her up at half past seven, leaving her with a polite tip of his hat and an enigmatic smile.

She had debated how best to dress. She thought about wearing something particularly fine and flattering – the black dress she had worn to impress her would-be-fiancé over Christmas had sprung to mind - but she was more inclined to condemn that particular article to the bonfire rather than wear it again and it would be entirely inappropriate anyway. But somehow she still felt the need to choose her clothes carefully, although she always did and she was quite sure it was for no particular consideration of Sir Richard Carlisle!

Still, she had turned out rather nicely, she thought. Green was her colour after all and as it was only the fifth of the month there were still some who had Christmas wreaths up that made her clothing look quite festive when they were seen together.

"I told Mary I'll sell it at a profit and I intend to."

Rosamund supposed he was to be admired for that at least. Every step he had taken through his life had pushed him higher in the world and further in society and so when the day came to sell Haxby Park he chose to wax philosophical and pocket the cash rather than mourn the loss of a possible home.

"You'll have trouble finding offers for a place like that these days."

"On the contrary," she raised her eyebrow at him in surprise as she sipped her champagne. "I've already found a buyer."

"I wouldn't have thought many people wanted the bother of a country estate. Or could afford one."

"Do you imagine I am the only man in the country who has done well in the last ten years?"

"Oh I don't doubt there are others, but none would have your motives."

"Motives?" He raised his eyebrow and looked rather amused at the direction of the conversation. Rosamund took it as a blessing and had long since decided that away from the oppression of Downton he was altogether much more amiable company.

"You were trying to impress Mary. And Robert I suppose but my brother was always rather easily won if you said the right thing, but Mary takes after mama and I know how difficult _she_ can be."

Richard gazed at her expressionless as she spoke, his flute halfway to his lips throughout, before he looked considering instead and inclined his glass towards her minutely.

"I suppose I was. But I doubt a house, no matter how grand, would have won Lady Violet over."

"Lady Grantham," Rosamund said automatically, droning out something she had known since she was four and was still astounded he could get wrong. "She's Lady Grantham because she's is, or at least she _was_ a Countess. Marmaduke didn't outrank papa so I'm always Lady Rosamund, Cora is _never_ Lady Cora and-" She caught his expression and trailed off, pursing her lips slightly. "And you're teasing me aren't you?"

He smiled at her then, properly, in a way she had never seen him smile before and she couldn't maintain her irritation at a joke being at her expense.

"It's interesting," he said as though she was an experiment and she drank her champagne, raising an eyebrow pointedly, silently demanding he explain himself. "Your mother would never deign to explain her rank and Lady Grantham was always kind enough not to embarrass anyone around her table-"

"Given how mama treated her when she first arrived I imagine she's still a bit nervous of doing the right thing sometimes."

"Understandable. But you all just _expect_ people to know what to say and do."

"We've always been expected to know what to say and do," she sipped her champagne delicately before dismissing the thoughts that were swirling in her mind. It wasn't worth wondering about the _worth_ of that knowledge anymore. Marmaduke had never cared for the formalities that defined her family but during her widowhood she had taken some cold comfort in the structure of life at Downton, if only for a week or so at a time.

"Is that why you all have an answer for everything?"

She laughed at that and met his gaze, still brimming with amusement.

"No, that comes from a lifetime of being questioned by mama."


End file.
